But back to INANI.
The goal was simple: observe a problem, identify a need, and in a very short time transform that observation into a product that could become part of a solution.
Back in 2020, when our campus was closed, we developed the Hyacinth Diaper, the only diaper that, after use, increased in value! How that works can be read in the blog post of back then: https://www.kanthari.org/corona-blog-04-09-2020/

The participants of 2021 came up with fascinating products: plastic made from tapioca, spicy dried snacks from overripe fruits (not the biggest success, as they still tasted slightly off, even after drying), and a mobile chicken coop that could have been revolutionary if it hadn’t fallen apart every time it was moved. Some products, however, stood the test of time. The banana-fiber coasters produced that year are still faithfully serving our office today.

The following year, one group created dog food from leftover biryani chicken bones and feathers, while another group produced paint from lake mud. Unfortunately, they never managed to expand their color palette beyond brown, brown, and brown. 😊
All these products were originally developed over three months.
This year, participants had only one week.
How? Well, time is relative.

I learned that at university. Whenever we had months to write a paper, we spent months doing absolutely nothing. Then, one week before the deadline, panic would set in.
The first three days were usually manageable. With enough coffee, we could transform mediocre thoughts into something resembling academic work.
Then disaster struck.
The computer crashed.
The printer toner ran out.
The paper was finished.
The shops were closed.

Another sleepless night followed, involving a desperate journey across the city in search of paper and toner, only to submit the assignment ten minutes before the deadline.
Yet somehow, when we only had two weeks from the beginning, everything felt different. We worked immediately. We ate. We slept. We remained surprisingly fresh.
So, for this year’s INANI Fair, we were not primarily looking for perfection.
We wanted speed and sellable items despite enormous time pressure.
What problem do I have?
What problem do my peers have?
What problems or challenges exist on campus?
Can I transform that problem into a product?
And who would buy it?

To simulate a marketplace, we added another layer to the game. We injected the equivalent of 300 Euros into the system. Every participant received 1,000 Rupees in coded cheque books. Every staff member received 550 Rupees, which could be topped with personal funds if desired. I knew some participants had not slept the previous night. Again, I was reminded of my university days.
But the outcome was astonishing.

The auditorium had magically transformed into a bustling fairground. Colorful cloth decorated carefully designed stalls displaying a wide range of products.
There was jewelry made from recycled paper and plastic.
Paper made from water hyacinth.
CashewPan, snacks made from grounded cashews, inspired by one group member who is a Kenyan cashew farmer.
Several games in which products could be won.
Organic mosquito repellent with pleasant fragrances.
And much more.

One group developed an online game designed to teach children political awareness and critical thinking. They couldn’t really sell a finished product, but they made profit charging a small fee for demonstrations and encouraged several to invest in their ideas.
Perhaps the most impressive feature of the entire fair was the work of the organizers: Ravi, Rohin, and Surji.
They connected all stalls through a visible digital graphic system that, in real time showed which stall sold the most products, who purchased the most items, and which products were becoming market favorites.
At times it felt like standing on a stock exchange floor or at an auction.
Tyrone, acting as master of ceremonies, regularly announced the latest standings, adding even more excitement to the atmosphere.

Since every cheque was customer coded, we could analyze trends. How many women between 30 and 40 bought mosquito repellent? Who preferred educational games? Who kept returning to the cup game stall? And all this against a backdrop of relaxed jazz music.
The adrenaline, the energy, the enthusiasm, it all felt surprisingly real.
What felt different, however, was the absence of fierce competition. All participants applauded for the stall with most sold items.
But of course, everyone had the same purchasing power and due to the code on the cheque book, it was not possible to buy their own products.

We expected participants to try to find loop wholes to get funding by cross donating, bargain aggressively, or trying to outsmart one another by overspending.
They didn’t. They stayed truthful and fair.
And the fair felt more like a celebration of creativity than a competition.
In just one week, problems didn’t just become products, they became proof of what’s possible when purpose meets pressure.

Read more blog posts here
learn more about kanthari TALKS on https://kantharitalks.org/

The post Blog – The inani Effect first appeared on kanthari.

For this weekly review, I want to focus on my experience with fundraising. When the centre becomes very busy, there is a high likelihood of putting fundraising aside or treating it like “any other business.” To avoid this, I usually set aside Wednesdays strictly for donor database updates or fundraising activities.

This structure helps me remain intentional. Emotionally, fundraising can be heavy. Waking up to rejection emails is never easy, and this week was one of those weeks. I received two rejections. Sometimes I wonder whether I just happen to read them very early in the morning or whether they are actually sent that early. Both foundations declined our proposals. Surprisingly, I did not feel as bad as I expected. Thanks to the “10 Rejections Challenge” I borrowed from Sabriye and some 2025 mentees; I reminded myself that I still had eight more applications to write.

Within the same week, I also received a motivating email from another foundation, with whom I had previously conducted an interview. This was a positive development, although we are required to attend a two-day physical training next week before qualifying to submit our proposal. I am willing to give it a try. The proposed project is to set up a pilot camping tent for Twajali Resort. Let’s see how it unfolds.

Interestingly, this project is beginning to attract potential investors. We were honoured to host Lucieta from the Kenya Tourism Fund, whom I had met during a training last year where I had expressed my unconventional perspective on the future of hospitality. I did not know whether that controversial conversation would later become the fuel that made her want to visit and see what we actually do.

She arrived while we were conducting our treasure hunt, themed around understanding Twajali’s history and orientation, counting our trees, identifying the first staffroom, and locating the cornerstone. I could tell from her eyes that this was not what she expected. With her strong hospitality background, I could only imagine what was going through her mind. I invited her to sit in our humble office since I was the game master and had a role to perform, but she preferred to sit outside with me. The treasure hunt involved mixed puzzles designed to measure teamwork, a copy left from the kanthari curriculum. Her words shifted from “this is challenging” to “this is amazing, what an experience.”
It was already late by the time we finished, so I accompanied her back to the city as we continued our discussion. Her main interest was the resort concept. While seated at a restaurant on our way back, she asked, “Mary, what if we got some investors to invest in the resort setup? I know a few networks who may be willing.”

The word investors usually creates a mental block for me. I paused, looked down at my plate, and chose my words carefully. I asked her what their take-home interest would be. Without hesitation, she answered, “Profits, of course.” That confirmed my concern. I explained that my challenge with investors is that they prioritize profit, while I prioritize impact; the order of priorities differs. That is why, for us, grants and donations often feel more aligned than investments.

Lucieta is witty, strategic, and very assertive. I knew my answer would lead to a deeper question. She referenced two leading hospitality schools in Kenya: The Boma International Hospitality College and Kenya Utalii College. Both have hotels attached to them. The Boma Hotel is high-end and sophisticated, and later gave birth to its own school, which is now thriving. Utalii, on the other hand, sometimes struggles with supplies due to government bureaucracy.

She asked what prevents Twajali from operating like Boma School. Her question was valid, and for a moment I fumbled for words. Eventually I responded that Twajali’s model is reversed; the “school” is intended to give birth to the resort, meaning the hotel will serve the interests of the school, not the other way around. After exploring this and other topics, she promised to introduce me to some of her networks and to return with one or two colleagues.

Before we concluded, she asked a final question that caught me off balance: how we handle Ministry of Health compliance when some of our classes and rooms have no floors. It was a legitimate concern. My response was reflective; I asked what the government does for rural areas where children learn under trees. Is it better to wait for perfect infrastructure before starting, or to begin changing lives while gradually improving facilities? When the authorities come, we will have a conversation.

My meeting with Lucieta felt like an eagle meeting a frog, yet it ended well. I believe a wise frog should be willing to borrow the eagle’s eyes to see far, and the eagle should be willing to come down to the frog’s level to experience the heat. As I prepare for another “eagle and frog” meeting with the Vice Chancellor of Meru University of Science and Technology today regarding collaboration on WASH, I remain hopeful.

Learn more about Mary’s work on twajali
Read more blog posts here
learn more about kanthari TALKS on https://kantharitalks.org/

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The post kanthari quarterly newsletter 2 – 2026 first appeared on kanthari.

She is remarkably skilled at turning one tough situation after another into a feeling of having won the lottery. While many people, even those who are much younger, would have given up at the first or second obstacle, or never dared to begin such a journey at all, she seemed to find genuine joy in every challenge that came her way.
Reading her story reminded me of our Talking Circle, in which everything that could go wrong is transformed into a high jump.

Here is just one example of my mother’s journey.
It was already late at night when she wanted to enter her hotel room, but the key that had worked perfectly an hour earlier no longer worked. No one was around. No guests, no hosts. It was one of those hotels that are remotely managed from somebody’s home.

Instead of worrying about her safety, becoming angry that the lovely room with its comfortable bed remained unreachable behind a locked door, or panicking about where she would spend the night, she looked around, and concluded that the staircase was nearly perfect for sleeping. After all, it had a decent carpeted floor.
What more could one ask for?
Well, as I already mentioned, my mother has always been exceptionally good at turning setbacks into something beautiful.

And this is exactly a quality that social change-makers also need to master.
We practice this transformation in our problem definition workshop using a tool named the Talking Circle.
Each participant draws a chit with an emotion written on it: jealousy, sadness, loneliness, anger, helplessness, or exclusion. They then tell a personal story in which this emotion played a major role.
Others ask questions, and at times, while responding to these deeply personal reflections, participants begin to realize that experiences which once troubled them can, in hindsight, be understood as valuable.

Jealousy often turns into: “Well, it opened my eyes to this crook and gave me the freedom to tell myself to get the hell out of this prison-like relationship!”
Loneliness transforms into: “I discovered that I didn’t need others to give me self-worth. I already had a strong personality to rely on.”
And exclusion becomes: “How wonderful that I found out who my true friends are, and who I should avoid in the future.”

What we should not do, however, is downplay the problem itself. That would not do it justice.
There is nothing good we can extract from war, poverty, violence against marginalized people, environmental destruction, or the loss of beloved friends or family members.
The Talking Circle is not about glorifying or ignoring suffering. It is about dealing with emotions.

The emotion is there and, in most cases, it is entirely justified. After all, it is our personal experience and our genuine feeling. But emotions can trigger different kinds of reactions and actions. We can despair. We could get stuck, or we can reflect, learn, and eventually overcome it.

The past week brought several emotional ups and downs.
In memory of David Olendo, our 2025 participant who passed away on 18 June last year, we all stood silently while our Kenyan participants planted a coconut tree in his honour. It was a wish expressed by his daughter, who remains in touch with Mary and Paul.

As we watched, we listened to the birds and to Faith’s Swahili song about strength and overcoming pain. It reminded me of last year, when we sat together on the roof terrace, sharing the pain of losing a very kind and deeply respected participant, and promising each other that we would integrate a piece of David’s dream, protecting nature, into all our individual projects.

And, as if fate likes to bundle all sorrows together, we were shaken by news from the family of one of this year’s participants, who had lost beloved family members due to a fatal medical decision. For the sister and for her twins, we planted three mango trees next to David’s coconut palm. And perhaps, a few years from now, all those who wish to remember them can sit in the cool shade of these trees and reflect on life, both before and after the loss.

As sad as we all were, we also felt unity, solidarity, and care.

Closing this piece on a lighter note, and returning to my mother’s adventure, you may be wondering whether she actually spent the night in an empty staircase.
No, she didn’t.
She made one final attempt to find someone who couldn’t speak her language, but who could help her solve the riddle of the key that didn’t fit. Together, they discovered that she was simply on the wrong floor.
After going up one more staircase, the key magically unlocked the door and opened the entrance to a now even more welcoming room with large windows overlooking all the sites she could visit after a good night’s sleep.

Sometimes, perhaps, we are not locked out at all.
Sometimes, we simply stand on the wrong floor.

Read more blog posts here
learn more about kanthari TALKS on https://kantharitalks.org/

The post Sometimes we are simply on the wrong floor first appeared on kanthari.

For those who are new to kanthari, participants deliver three Dream Speeches during the course. The first one is presented shortly after arrival, the second after Act Two, when their concepts have taken shape, and the third and final speech is delivered during the kanthari TALKS in December.
While the kanthari TALKS are presented to a global audience and live-streamed around the world, the first speech happens right here on campus. Yet there is a catch.
Participants never know whether they will be first, second, third, or last. They simply have to be ready.

The music, composed by Richard Strauss and made famous worldwide through Stanley Kubrick’s film 2001: A Space Odyssey, has become part of a kanthari ritual. Seventeen generations of participants have heard it, and many alumni still report an immediate surge of adrenaline whenever those first notes begin to play.

Did you know that public speaking is consistently ranked among humanity’s greatest fears? In many studies, it scores alongside the fear of serious illness or losing loved ones.
But why? Are people really afraid of speaking itself? Of forgetting their words? Of going blank? Or are we afraid of something much deeper?
Perhaps we fear being judged. Embarrassing ourselves. Being rejected by our community because we express something that others may not agree with.

Against this backdrop, it becomes easier to understand what we ask of our newly arrived participants. After just one week on campus, they are expected to stand on a stage in front of an audience they barely know. A video camera records every word. A group of catalysts sits in front of them, typing observations into their laptops while participants essentially turn themselves inside out. And that brings us to the topic of this first speech.
The assignment is simple, at least on paper:
Speak for ten minutes about the problem you want to solve, your personal story, and the solution you envision.

Phew! That is a lot to ask. None of these topics are easy.

I have written before about how difficult it is to define a problem clearly. Describing a solution that has not yet been fully developed is a challenge in itself. But speaking about one’s own life? About painful memories, turning points, disappointments, fears, and experiences that may have been carefully locked away for years? And then sharing all of this with people you hardly know? Isn’t that asking too much at such an early stage?

Looking at the speeches presented this week, I have to say: no.
We asked a lot, but we asked it from exactly the right people.
One after another stepped onto the stage. Some were more nervous than others, some more structured, and some better prepared.
But every single one of them accomplished one of the most courageous acts a person can undertake: speaking publicly while remaining true to themselves.

They spoke freely from their hearts. They entrusted us with their deepest vulnerabilities, their physical and psychological wounds, without drifting into self-pity. They stood there calm, factual, confident, and powerful. Many shared their personal stories for the very first time. Stories of neglect, homelessness, exclusion, discrimination, violence, and persecution. And yet, within every story there was something remarkable: Hope.

There was always a way forward. A refusal to see themselves as victims. A determination to transform hardship into a broader goal.
Among this year’s participants are survivors of rape, violence, loneliness, societal pressure, poverty, war, discrimination, and the devastating effects of climate change. Yet none of them chose to remain defined by what happened to them. Instead, they drew strength from their struggles and transformed painful experiences into ideas for change.

Watching them speak so openly during their very first Dream Speech, I am reminded of my own first public appearances, speeches, readings, and television interviews during the early days of our Braille Without Borders time in Tibet. I still remember how painful it was to speak about difficult moments: the discrimination from classmates after I lost my sight, the challenges of building our school for the blind, or not being taken seriously by German officials.
These were challenging experiences that had to be told because they shaped who we are today.
But only with time and practice was I able to detach myself from reliving the pain while speaking. It took hundreds of speeches before I could talk about these experiences without being overwhelmed by feelings of anger, hurt, or embarrassment, while still telling the story in a way that made it feel as immediate as if it had happened only yesterday.

Their speeches gave a promising first impression, and I am already looking forward to the kanthari TALKS in December. (11 & 12 Dec 2026)

learn more about kanthari TALKS on https://kantharitalks.org/
Read more blog posts here

The post kanthari – Courage to Speak first appeared on kanthari.

Students around the world are given strict policies. They become remarkably skilled at bending rules, tweaking regulations, and turning loophole-hunting into an Olympic sport. But here is the catch: participants at kanthari are not here to become better students. They are here because they want to build and run their own organisations one day. And founders face very different challenges.
Students operate within systems. Founders create them, maintain them, and deal with the consequences when those systems break down. This difference becomes particularly visible whenever we discuss campus rules, usually during the first phase.
We can spend hours explaining why a rule exists. We can provide examples, scenarios, consequences, and examples from earlier years. Everyone nods. Everyone understands.
And then, in the past, sometimes even on the very same evening, some participants started brainstorming how to get around the very rule they just agreed was perfectly reasonable.

One recurring example, and a source of mild headaches for the team, is food delivery.
The kanthari kitchen prepares meals that are healthy, nutritious, and often surprisingly adventurous. Most participants appreciate the effort, the fresh ingredients, and the wonderful blend of Kerala and international flavours.
But homesickness occasionally strikes.
Someone misses ugali.
Someone dreams of fufu.
Someone longs for zaza.
And someone suddenly develops a deep emotional attachment to Kentucky Fried Chicken.

The moment dinner arrives without the desired comfort food, stomachs begin to panic, and perhaps as a lingering post-COVID reflex, fingers start twitching nervously toward the nearest food delivery app.
You may think: what’s the harm? Let them enjoy their favourite meal. Wish them “Bon Appétit” and move on.
Fair enough! In fact, participants are completely free to go out for dinner whenever they wish.

The challenge begins when food is delivered to campus.
Because every takeaway meal arrives with an invisible side dish: WASTE!
Pizza boxes covered in melted cheese and tomato sauce.
Containers coated with sticky gravies…
Chicken bones dripping grease…
Plastic wrappers decorated with chocolate cream…
Paper bags filled with soggy French fries.
Disposable dirty cutlery.
Basically, all leftovers of convenience.

In some countries, people throw this waste away and they magically disappear.
Here, reality works differently.
We do not live inside a sophisticated waste-management vacuum.

Every improperly disposed piece of waste launches a festival of decomposers.
First come the ants. Their highway system is highly effective and usually leads directly to the room of the culprit. Then the cockroaches start organising themselves.
The geckos arrive to hunt the cockroaches. The rats follow everyone.
And because we happen to live in the tropics, where there are rats, there is good chance for rat snakes to peak around the corner as well…
At this point, the pizza that seemed like such a brilliant idea has evolved into a small ecological hazard.
To be fair, the ants, geckos, rats, and snakes are all simply doing their jobs.
The only species in this chain that occasionally struggles to connect actions with consequences is the human, and in this case, the founder(s)-in-training.

Which brings us back to the question: Why do rules exist?
Not because kanthari enjoyed creating them.
Not because we want to deny participants their beloved KFC.
But because every action creates consequences, and we believe future founders must learn to think beyond their immediate desires.

I remember a crisis meeting years ago in Tibet with our blind students. The children, aged six to twelve, were protesting against washing dishes. Fortunately, even back then, paul and I already believed in experiential learning. So, we agreed. No more dishwashing!
The first two days went surprisingly well, however then the stock of clean plates and cups ran out… The powerful Tibetan sun began warming the dirty plates scattered around the courtyard. A rather noticeable smell emerged which attracted a squadron of flies..

After preparing meals for the students, Paul and I decided to invite our house parents to enjoy some street food, outside the school. But at night we all started hearing high pitched squeaking sounds. Tibetan rats are considerably larger than their Indian relatives, and because they face relatively few dangers, they can become remarkably confident, and occasionally quite aggressive.
After enjoying the buffet in our courtyard, they began exploring the children’s dormitories in search of further entertainment. And by the third day, the children unanimously declared the experiment finished.
From that day forward, all dishes, pots and pans, cups and cutlery were cleaned with great passion!

Yes, we could try the same experiment here. But for some reason, most participants do not seem particularly eager to cuddle up with a snake in their bedroom.

So instead, we try to activate their imagination. Perhaps that is why one of the most important lessons at kanthari is not about social entrepreneurship at all.
It is learning the difference between a student and a founder.
Students ask themselves:
“How can I get around this rule?”
Founders ask: “Why does this rule exist, and what would happen if everyone ignored it?”

More kanthari blogs:

The post Mind the Bumps: Entering Founder Territory first appeared on kanthari.

Since all the catalysts are guiding specific participants through the journey in 5 acts, it is important to clarify where we start and where we are heading towards.

Most of our participants come here because they have personally experienced a problem, sometimes even existential danger. They arrive with an idea they believe is the solution to the painful experiences they have lived through.

And this is exactly where the challenge begins.
Last week, during one session of the preparatory course in which we spoke about their stakeholders, we asked a simple question:
“What is the problem you want to solve?”
Almost all of them answered with some version of:
“My objective is to…”
It quickly became clear that understanding the difference between a problem and a solution is not easy.
Having goals and objectives is wonderful. But before anything else, we must understand the actual problem.

Going forward, every tool we introduce, every question we ask, and every step we take needs to be built on the foundation of the problem they want to solve. All we ask the participants is to begin with is a simple problem statement, one or two sentences that clearly explain where the problem exists, what the problem is, why it matters, and who is affected.

Once the problem becomes clear, we begin to define:
– Who are the people most affected by this problem, and who would benefit from a possible solution? What are their needs? What are their stories?
– Who are the people with the power to create change? Who needs to be convinced, influenced, or mobilized?
And finally:
– who are the partners they want to work with? What kind of team do they need around them?

Only when these questions become clearer can we slowly begin to approach possible solutions. And even that will only happen about six weeks into Act 1.
But even then, we move step by step.
First, participants learn to zoom out. They begin to shape a broad vision, the change they wish to see in the world, and from there, a mission: the larger strategy that could eventually lead toward that vision.

And then, the famous ‘kanthari washing machine’ begins its cycle.
Through a deceptively simple game, participants discover that the ideas they were once deeply attached to are often rather conventional, predictable, and sometimes even ‘boring’ responses to a now much more deeply understood problem.

Finding the right solution does not happen in a single moment of inspiration. It is usually a slow, sometimes painful, but steady journey toward identifying the right intervention.
We call this process “concept transformation.”
And concept transformation begins with critical questions, questions that all of us need to help gather and sharpen throughout these first six weeks.

So, whenever we hear participants rushing toward solutions, we gently guide them back to the foundation: the problem that truly needs to be solved, and the people who would genuinely benefit from their interventions.
We try to help the participants understand that there is little value in jumping too quickly to conclusions. We give them the space and time to discover the deeper reasons why they chose to be at kanthari.
The week has already started with a lot of positive energy and vibes,
Greeting you from the roof,

sabriye

Read more kanthari blog posts on: https://www.kanthari.org/coronablog/

The post Sounds of new beginnings – Blog first appeared on kanthari.

The post quarterly newsletter 1 – 2026 first appeared on kanthari.

The post quarterly newsletter 4 – 2025 first appeared on kanthari.

Dear friends and supporters,
Elie Mastaki, a young Congolese change-maker, spoke with quiet strength about his country’s breathtaking beauty; fire-spitting volcanoes, the world’s second-largest rainforest, mighty rivers, and vast lakes. He also addressed the conflict in Goma, fueled by global demand for resources powering our electricity, batteries, and daily lives.

Elie ended his talk on a positive note by describing Elikia, his organization, which means “hope” in Lingala, empowering youth as ethical leaders and peace ambassadors. Now back in the conflict zone, he continues this vital work.

To many of us, celebrating Christmas in relative safety and calm, Elie left one simple message, shared with a warm smile: “Don’t take peace for granted.”

With his words, and a small poem we created for Elie and all those who engage in the critical mission to bring about positive change, we wish you peaceful holidays, good health, and inspiration for the year to come.

May the season remind us that peace is precious, responsibility is shared, and hope can grow even in the most fragile places.

TO TALK ABOUT PEACE

“To talk about peace
is not a big deal.
We are used to these phrases
from leaders who feel
that their monologues matter,
WE ALL can do better!
To make peace needs real action,
and only a fraction
of all we can do,
will in future shine through!”

To get a better understanding of Elie’s story, you can watch his kanthari

With lots of gratitude for your ongoing support and warmest regards,
sabriye and paul

You can watch Elie’s kanthari TALK here

The post Happy Holidays wishes from kanthari first appeared on kanthari.